


another last

by nightstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8.22, M/M, Possible Spoilers, cas in the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightstiel/pseuds/nightstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's another last night on earth and they seem to share many of those.</p>
            </blockquote>





	another last

It’s to happen tomorrow.

Sam’s already fast asleep in his room, he’s been sleeping a lot recently, but Dean has faith and if sleep makes him stronger, all the better. This is why Dean insisted they listen to the records in the library, so that the music only slightly creeps up and the bedrooms are wrapped in a comfortable silence.

Cas appreciates that. He browses the records in his hands, smoothing his sleek fingers over the worn covers, twirling the vinyls as if he’s reading the music with his fingertips. Who knows, maybe the freakin’ angels _can_ do that. They’ve been taking turns picking records; this time soft Ella Fitzgerald by angelic command.

Cas, not surprisingly enough, took keenly to the idea of having a drink. Or ten. He has confessed to acquiring a taste of beverages and food earlier in the afternoon and turned out he took his coffee like Dean, but denied any inspiration.

“So, last night on earth. Again,” Dean said with overexposed joviality as he poured he honey-coloured liquid down. Hunter’s little helper indeed, a light in the darkest hour of the night. “Let’s drink to that.”

“We seem to have many of those.” Cas replied, corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he raised his glass. “Especially me, but it’s not surprising for someone who doesn’t die right.” He takes the whiskey in small sips, cradling the glass in his hands. It should be sad; it is sad. An angel who won’t die, no matter how hard he tries, but Dean’s fucking _thrilled._ And he can tell Cas is a little glad, too.

So they drink to that. For every last night that has failed to take them both, for good and for all those still to come. Silence stretches above Ella’s sweet notes and it’s peaceful even, lingering gazes of two tired men finding comfort in their presence. Dean smirks into his glass – it’s always been there, right?

“You know, you could do something crazy tonight for once, Cas,” Dean grins, predatory and the voice at the back of his head isn’t whispering _me, how about me_ at all.  Bad joke. Terrible, actually.

“Like what?” Cas shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another, brow furrowing more than usual, eyes scanning Dean as he rests against the long table. “It’s likely I will be intoxicated in approximately 15 minutes.”

“Yeah, no. How about,” Dean takes the glass out of Castiel’s hands but not to refill it; instead, he sets in on the table, “you take off your coat.” He pushes the trenchoat off the angel’s shoulders – the same trenchoat that bore the brunt of Ruby’s knight that one night so many years ago, tattered and torn by the wrath of archangels and soaked with water and Leviathan – and ignores how his heart seems to shrink and contract in his chest. It falls to the floor and Cas might as well be hiding a smile. “Your jacket, too,” and Dean knows maybe he’s breaching but his friend doesn’t protest when the black garment slips to the floor as well. His hands hover over the blue tie and fall back to Dean’s thighs. Castiel takes him up on it, untangles the knot and places the tie on the table and there’s something transfixing in watching those fingers move, a slow fumble with the tie never undone.

It _is_ another last night on earth, after all.

“Very crazy,” Castiel rolls his eyes but they smile and he leans against the table next to Dean, close, always so close, without any respect for personal space. Dean has stopped correcting him a long time ago. It stopped bothering him. It never did.

The records stops and they stay still; and they talk, about broken angels, and noses and skins and hearts. All is forgiven; nothing forgotten. And they talk about the inevitable.

“So,” Dean’s eyes are fixed on the wall opposite, squinting as if he’s trying to read titles of old volumes. He couldn’t care less. “When it’s over. If we make it out.”

“Unlikely, but go on.”

“What will you do, Cas?”

Castiel sighs, says no more and Dean can’t pretend he’s not looking at him any longer. The blue eyes cast down, and Castiel’s hands show trepidation matching Dean’s own and Dean wonders what Cas makes of his heart rattling in his ribcage, like a trapped rougarou.

He licks his lips, looks up, then down, then back at Cas. “Any chance you’ll stay? I mean, if you want to. It’s your choice, man.” _But please make the right choice._

There’s this smile again and it drives Dean crazy. A sad, little smile of those chapped lips and suddenly Cas it turning to meet Dean’s eyes and it’s even worse.

 “Dean. It’s a choice I made a long time ago. Just never had the chance.”

“Yeah, like it was your choice to stay in Purgatory. Leaving by staying, that’s a new kind of crazy, Cas,” and these words were never supposed to come out and hurt like they did even if they _should._

“I know. I didn’t deserve what I wanted,” and Dean doesn’t know what to say because he knows too well how it feels.

“It took everything to get me here. And this is where I am. And, provided we survive tomorrow, where I will be.”

And suddenly, Dean knows that kissing that feathered-ass idiot is the only appropriate answer; maybe just in time, maybe a few years late. It doesn’t matter. What does is Castiel kissing back and it’s like making out with a thunderstorm, buzzing underneath his skin, and the last night on earth dragging on, counting down to another end of the world.

But this time, Dean has faith.

 

**Author's Note:**

> With the finale approaching fast and a strong desire for some resolution of the buildup between Dean and Castiel, I decided to attempt one of my own. I don't know; I wrote a thing. Wouldn't it be nice if it were at least remotely resembling what will actually happen?


End file.
